


Queens of Nothing

by MadiMay



Series: The Calla Universe, where nothing makes sense [2]
Category: DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: F/F, F/M, Introspection, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Told you they werent done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-31 00:19:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19038526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadiMay/pseuds/MadiMay
Summary: The last time Poison Ivy see's Calla she is sitting in a high backed chair on her front porch, looking like a Queen in her domain.





	Queens of Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> So, this isn't quite Calla/Dick/Klarion, but it's in the same Universe, and there will be more soon, so here, have this in mean time

The last time Poison Ivy sees Calla before she dies is not a pleasant visit. She hadn't expected it to be.

Ivy broken 3 of her sons ribs, crushed his left knee, and dislocated his left shoulder in a battle not two weeks ago, and it had been radio silence since. Ivy hadn't meant to. Apollo was the only male she could stand. He was her godson. But her vines had reacted on automatic to.the intruder, and by the time she had realized it had been to late.

It was a fine line they balanced, but Ivy had never, _never_ , hurt one of her godchildren before. She went out of her way to protect them in battle, she doted on them. And while it had not been on purpose, she knew Calla would not care overly much for the distinction.

One of her children had been hurt. There was no forgiveness for that.

And Ivy knew that, she understood that, she appreciated that.

But Calla was one of the only sentient beings alive she still loved, let alone respected. Her and her children.

Harley had died not long after silver had threaded through her golden hair and her joints had begun aching in an explosion. Selena had vanished on a heist and never returned. The original bat was dead.

So now, Ivy walked up the length of drive way surrounded by plants, walking to meet Calla.

It was late summer, the air was still and hot, but a chill still swept her when Calla's golden eyes caught her and narrowed.

She'd always had one of the most intimidating glare of almost anyone Ivy had ever known. Her warm chocolate eyes capable of going cold and deadly in an instant. Slitted like a snakes, and the obvious distrust and cold calculation capable of making anyone's stomach churn.

That look had never been leveled at her before, though she had seen it more and more since Dick and Klarion's deaths. Since the birth of the twins. Calla had proven herself a wonderful mother, though it had made her cold and hard around increasingly more people. First the hero's outside of her family, for questioning her retirement, then to the bat, for an argument, though no one but them knew what it was about. Civilians, villains, heroes. There were only a few people left these days. Klarions mother and sister, Dicks and her siblings, a handful of others. That list was unlikely to include her now.

Calla didn't stand and come to greet her, just settled her hands on the arm rests of the chair, sat straighter, and crossed one leg over the other.

She had silver streaked through her black curls, wrinkles lined her face, scars criss-crossing every inch of visible skin. 

Even with the deadly look currently on her face, her thin skin was worn to wrinkles that made her delicate bone structure all the more obvious. She was too thin and while still tall, it wasn't nearly as intimidating as it once had been. She should look fragile. She should look old and worn and like easy prey.

Instead, she looked dangerous. Her scars, her posture, her snakes eyes, they all screamed 'hundreds have tried to kill me, and all of them are dead.'

Ivy thought back to a time when Calla had said her family aged well. She hadn't been kidding, though Ivy thought with her, it might be more. Might be some aspect of her powers. At 65, she was as strong and fast as she had been at 30, and looked much the same as she had been at 40.

She looked far more deadly. Though that could be because Ivy had never had that look, that rage, that fierce, endless well of protectiveness aimed at her before.

Ivy didn't let herself flinch, didn't let herself shrink down, though she wanted to. 

A wave of cold hit her as she reached the porch steps and stopped, and Ivy shivered.

Her powers have never reacted well to Calla's. The cold made her sleepy and docile. Dormant. 

Calla had never taken advantage of that before.

Ivy opened her mouth, and Calla cut her off, "No. You aren't welcome here."

Ivy wet her lips, tried to conjure some defense, "It wasn't-"

Calla sneered, "I know. I don't care. You aren't their godmother anymore. You aren't my friend. So leave."

Ivy took in the barely controlled violence, the way it was getting colder by the second, and nodded.

"Okay."

Poison Ivy turned, and walked away. Just because she wasn't theirs, didn't mean they weren't  _hers_. She would still watch their backs, if from a distance.

She had no choice. She had little else.

When Calla died taking a bullet for her eldest not 6 months later, and her children refused contact,  Ivy raged alone on an island. That was the last anyone knew of her.


End file.
